


The Carriage held but just Ourselves

by thekumquat



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, i hurt myself writing this so now everyone else has to suffer too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekumquat/pseuds/thekumquat
Summary: Cybertronians live for millions of years.Humans do not.Wheeljack and Bulkhead try to cope with the inevitable.





	The Carriage held but just Ourselves

Wheeljack stepped out onto the roof of the base. He wasn’t usually a mech for noticing the scenery beyond use as potential cover or weaponry, but even he had to admit the view was beautiful. The sun was low, painting the rocks in orange and gold. The wind blew gently, just enough to dance swirls of sand over the ground. The sky was deepening to purple, streaked with pink. 

Bulkhead, sitting on the edge of the plateau with his legs dangling over the edge, didn’t seem to see any of it. He just stared blankly at the horizon. 

In fact, he was so lost that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, or notice Wheeljack’s approach until the mech spoke. 

“Hey.” 

Bulkhead started and looked up. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you left.” 

Wheeljack sat down beside him. 

“Came back.” 

They stared out at the desert together in silence. The sun began to dip below the horizon, and stars appeared in glittering handfuls.

“Why?” Bulkhead asked at last. Wheeljack reached out, almost hesitantly, and placed his hand over Bulkhead’s. 

“‘Cause right now, you need me here more than I need to be alone.” 

Bulkhead squeezed Wheeljack’s hand tightly.

“Thanks, Jackie.” 

“Ahh, don’t go getting all mushy on me,” Wheeljack said, without irritation. 

They grew silent again. Suddenly, Bulkhead’s face went tight with grief beyond measure. 

“I can’t believe she’s really gone.” 

Wheeljack leaned against him. 

“Me too.” 

He remembered the day he’d found out how short the human lifespan was. A century, if they were lucky. The average was eighty. 

Miko had been thirty, and the realization that he was going to lose her so soon sent Wheeljack running all the way to Cybertron on scouting duty for six months. 

The others hadn’t mattered so much to him. He barely knew Fowler and June. He’d been awkwardly sympathetic to Arcee when Jack passed. The only one left from the old days was Raf -- but somehow Bumblebee seemed to have come to terms with the inevitable. 

Maybe he was too young to know better. 

Maybe Wheeljack should ask him how. 

But Miko, loud, boisterous Miko, always ready for a fight, a whole Wrecker’s worth of confidence and ferocity in a pint-sized package… He doubted there was any human on Earth like her. She’d been so strong, so bright and spry even in old age, that he’d started to convince himself that the rule didn’t apply to her. That she’d live forever. 

Reality hit hard three months before her ninety-fifth birthday. 

Bulkhead pulled his hand free and wrapped his arm around Wheeljack’s shoulders, leaned their helms together. Wheeljack realized he was shaking. 

“Frag,” he muttered. For just a moment, he wanted to pull away. He was strong enough to handle this alone. He didn’t  _ need  _ comforting. He wasn’t a newspark, for Primus’ sake. 

But somehow Wheeljack just kept leaning closer. 

“If she could see us right now she’d be laughing her head off,” Bulkhead said. His voice was shaky, but strong. 

“Heh. She’d call us a coupla cry babies.” 

They stayed that way, long after the sun was gone and night had wrapped around them. The moon had risen, the slender crescent just barely bright enough to illuminate the shapes of the stones around them. 

Suddenly Bulkhead spoke up. 

“Remember that time we were fighting those cons and she got hit so hard she went flying?”

“And she just got back up and-- what did she call that move?” 

“A piledriver.” 

“Right. All three of them, one right after the other.” 

“Remember when she managed to take out Starscream by herself?” 

“Sent him running,” Wheeljack laughed. “Her first time in the Apex Armor, up against a con who’s been fighting for four million years, and she pounds him into the ground. Hey, how about her 90th birthday. Raf telling her she was getting too old to go to rock concerts and she said she’d beat him up?” 

“Not just beat him up, she’d drop kick him off the top of the base!” 

This was better than running, Wheeljack decided. To sit next to the mech he loved, trading stories about Miko, made his spark feel lighter than it had in days. They could face this together. As long as they remembered her, he’d never have to let go. 


End file.
